


The Problem With Paradise

by VTsuion



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Afterlife, Amnesia, F/M, Finding each other again, M/M, Past Character Death, Soulmates (not who you think)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-06-28 07:19:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19807405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/pseuds/VTsuion
Summary: Spock is dead after a long life, well lived. He awakens in paradise where he is to spend eternity with his beautiful soulmate, but something is missing.





	1. Paradise

Ambassador Spock died peacefully in his sleep.

His eyes slowly opened, and he found himself in a plain white room, empty aside for himself and the comfortable bench on which he was seated. He glanced once around the room and had just began to formulate questions as to his whereabouts when a viewscreen set into the far wall turned on.

It displayed a humanoid of respectable, but not venerable age, well, if eccentrically dressed in brightly colored robes. “Greetings, Ambassador Spock,” the humanoid said. “You no doubt have many questions which I will endeavor to address.”

Spock quirked his eyebrow in response even though the humanoid presumably could not see him.

“You are dead,” the humanoid continued. “You have now progressed to your next phase of existence in the universe. What occurs to a being after its death is determined by the sum total of all the actions they took over the course of their lives, good and bad. Only the very best come here. And  _ you _ are one of the best.” It stretched out an arm and gestured at the room in which Spock was sitting - “Welcome to paradise.”

With that, the viewscreen turned off and the humanoid vanished.

Just as Spock began to contemplate possible courses of action, the door slid open.

He was greeted by a Vulcan woman, almost as old as he was, but radiant with all the wisdom accumulated over a long life, dressed in white robes almost identical to the ones Spock wore. She raised her right hand, her fingers split in the customary Vulcan greeting. “Live long and prosper, Ambassador Spock.”

He stood and reciprocated the gesture, though he did not miss the irony. “Live long and prosper. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

“I am your soulmate.” She explained, “No one is in paradise alone.”

Spock bowed his head in acknowledgement. “I am honored that my soul has been found worthy of yours,” he said, but he kept his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

Spock’s soulmate led him to a traditional Vulcan home of red and orange sandstone, as though it had been carved out of the mountains of their homeworld. However, the rocky plateau on which it was built overlooked lush, verdant forests reminiscent of Earth or Romulus, and, emerging from the canopy, they could see the tip of a pyramid that could have once been found on the former Klingon homeworld of Qo’nos.

“This is truly a paradise,” Spock acknowledged.

They sat on a bench overlooking the valley and watched the sun set, illuminating the forest below in bright yellow and orange and red and purple light. As the sky faded to a deep, starry blue, their hands brushed together and restrained, logical thought passed between them.

* * *

Spock knelt behind his soulmate, plaiting her silver hair in the traditional Vulcan style. The simple, repetitive motion gave their minds a common rhythm as they both meditated. They were not bonded, but they could each feel the distant pull of the other’s thoughts, calm and steady on a peaceful plain where even the wind was still and the sands did not stir.

“Something is missing.” The thought pulled Spock out of his meditation, into full awareness, and the words passed through his lips without a thought.

The gentle breeze stirred the sands of his soulmate’s mind and she too came out of meditation, though she did not move or even open her eyes. “Something has disturbed you,” she said.

“Yes,” Spock acknowledged. “But I do not know what. I only know that something is absent which should not be.”

“It takes time to acclimate to the absence of all the bonds that were formed in life.” Her soothing presence quivered with a breath of regret that rustled up his memories in turn.

He could recall many friendships formed over the many years of his life; colleagues, acquaintances, lives that had touched his, even slightly, and that he had touched in return. He recalled siblings, parents - human and Vulcan - the distant, but clear shapes of a life fully lived. But something was missing. His eyes narrowed as he tried to puzzle it out.

“There is something which I have forgotten, something of the utmost importance.” But he could not remember what.

* * *

Embedded in the wall of the wide, open central room of their house was a viewscreen on which they could watch any moment in their illustrious lives as they had lived it. The entirety of his long life was laid out before him, organized chronologically and spatially, and sorted into logical categories. There were his early years on Vulcan, his tumultuous time in Starfleet, and then his later years as an ambassador. If Spock truly had forgotten something, he should have merely needed to watch it and be reminded.

He did not know where to begin, so he started from the beginning. It was not easy to watch his early years on Vulcan, as long ago as they were. He was so young and so alone, without the peace learned over many years. He remembered how his human and Vulcan sides warred within him.

He did not hear her enter the room, but eventually his soulmate joined him on the bench in front of the viewscreen and put a gentle hand on his. He could feel her serene, logical acceptance radiating from her warm touch.

“Thank you,” Spock said at last.

She merely remarked, “Our people at times forget the ways of logic which they hold so dear.”

Together, they watched Spock’s time in Starfleet; first in the academy, and then ten years on the  _ Enterprise _ under Captain Christopher Pike, who was subsequently replaced by Captain James Kirk. Spock remembered serving under both captains approximately equally. He worked more closely with Captain Kirk, but he had also faced more adversity and change during that time. He was loyal to them both as was befitting of his station as Science Officer - and then First Officer.

But there was something surprising about Captain Kirk’s open smile. He had a charisma that should not have succeeded at charming a Vulcan, but which he directed at Spock again and again all the same.

His soulmate put words to it before Spock did. “He loved you.”

Spock nodded. “That is apparently the case.” His eyebrows rose with the recollection of a distant memory that had somehow grown faint with the passing years. “We were bonded.”

Sure enough, they watched Spock’s relationship with the captain change from distantly professional to amenable association, to something much more. And even though they could not see Spock’s expression, it was more than apparent that he returned Captain Kirk’s feelings. They would not have bonded if Spock had not felt strongly for him.

As they watched Spock save the captain’s life once again, he remarked, “There is nothing we have seen here which I had forgotten, but viewing these memories evokes no strong emotion, nor can I recall the emotions which I apparently experienced.” His eyes narrowed in confusion.

Again, his soulmate put her hand on his and he felt her calming presence, tinged with regrets of her own. “I have also found that my life has become distant to me,” she acknowledged. “What is past is past. It is only logical for our memories of life to fade in preparation for eternity in paradise.”

Spock inclined his head in assent, but he did not find it satisfactory.

* * *

“Computer,” Spock asked the informational system that was accessible anywhere in paradise, “What are the current whereabouts of the soul of the human James Tiberius Kirk?”

“His lifetime accomplishments were deemed insufficient for him to spend eternity in paradise,” a cool voice reported.

“Where is he, if not paradise?” Spock insisted, though he suspected he knew the answer.

“I cannot answer that question,” the computer replied.

“Why?” Spock demanded.

“It is a subject which I cannot address according to my protocol.”

This called for extraordinary measures, perhaps an approach he recalled Captain Kirk taking on multiple occasions. “What is your primary protocol?” Spock asked.

“To serve those in paradise and ensure their happiness,” the computer answered promptly.

He had hoped that was the case and answered promptly, “I cannot be happy if I am prevented from fulfilling my duty. As his first officer and former bondmate, it is my duty to ensure the wellbeing of Captain Kirk, just as it is your duty to ensure my wellbeing. To fulfil my duty, I must know his whereabouts.” 

“You are deceased and therefore relieved of all duty,” the computer argued.

Spock hesitated. Even he did not truly comprehend his own feelings, but finally, he said, “I find that I cannot be happy if James Kirk is not. To fulfil your protocol, you must take me to him.”

“Everything that is necessary for your happiness has already been attended to,” the computer protested.

“And yet I am not happy,” Spock countered. “I will not be happy unless you provide me with the whereabouts of James Kirk.”

“I do not understand,” the computer replied.

“I am not happy,” Spock repeated. “It is your objective to ensure my happiness.”

“Yes,” the computer said, though it sounded uncertain, “I will ensure that you are happy.”

“Where is James Kirk?” Spock pressed.

“My protocol forbids me from informing you of his whereabouts” - the computer seemed to hesitate - “But I am capable of summoning a shuttle to transport you to his present location if that is what is necessary to bring you happiness.”

Spock nodded. He knew it was a reckless, illogical decision, founded on emotions that he could not remember. But he also knew that Captain James Kirk did not deserve whatever the alternative to paradise was likely to be. If his assumption was wrong, he would merely confirm that the former captain was well and return to paradise to face the consequences of his actions, but he could not rest until he knew for certain.

“I request a shuttle as soon as possible,” Spock declared. He did not wish to leave his soulmate in paradise alone, but she would understand.

“Certainly,” the computer replied.

Spock was about to ask when it would arrive when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked up to discover a shuttle like the ones that had once been stored aboard the USS  _ Enterprise, _ slowly hovering toward the ground. Emblazoned on its side where the humans typically put the names they used to identify their shuttles was the word, “Eternity.”

“Thank you,” Spock said as the shuttle landed beside him.

Spock stepped toward it and the hatch opened to let him in. The interior was exactly as he remembered, plain and austere, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. He seated himself at the controls, but before he could begin to attempt to decipher them, he felt the shuttle rise into the air.

The viewscreen, at least, functioned as expected, and he could see the forested ravine below, surrounded by hills and mountainous peaks. They passed not far above the plateau overlooking the valley, where his soulmate would, for the time being, live alone. And then it all gave way to white as they seemed to pass through clouds in the perfectly clear sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by the first season of The Good Place.


	2. Torment

The shuttle traveled on autopilot for Spock knew not how long. He did not know if time properly existed in this realm, nor how it was measured. He meditated, and waited, and found that the computer still answered questions when asked, but refused to provide him with any more information.

An eternity may have passed before the viewscreen darkened and showed the shuttle emerging from a stormy sky that hung above a dark, industrial cityscape. It descended to the foot of the tallest skyscraper and the door opened to allow Spock out in front of the main entrance.

To his surprise, he found himself looking into the lobby of Starfleet headquarters, just as it had appeared in the late 23rd century. But where the blue flags of the United Federation of Planets should have been, there were red banners displaying a caricature of the planet Earth in front of a sword. There was no doubt that this was where Spock would find his former captain. The doors opened with a rush of frigid air, and he strode through them as though he belonged there.

No one as much as looked up at his arrival. Immediately inside was the end of a long, curving line that, through many twists and turns, made its way to a large desk in the center of the room, in front of the largest bright red banner. At the desk was a lone humanoid woman, frantically attempting to answer a barrage of incoming calls, beeping urgently above the din. The rest of the large lobby bustled with humanoids running to and fro, often colliding in their hurry to be some place or another. Spock noted that many of them limped or sported broken limbs that further hindered their progress. But James Kirk was not among them.

There was no obvious indication of where to begin, and so Spock took his place at the end of the line. However, it showed little indication of moving, and he could not help but wonder what fate his former bondmate had been condemned to. The woman at the desk could hardly answer one call when she was interrupted by another that beeped even more urgently. The man at the front of the line tried many times to make his case to no avail. Meanwhile, the temperature of the room began to rise until it became uncomfortable even for an old Vulcan.

Finally, Spock decided that enough was enough and left his place in the line to wade through the crowd and make his way directly to the desk.

“One moment, sir,” the woman snapped as Spock approached, not even looking up from her work to see the latest visitor.

“Get back in line!” a man near the front shouted, “You have to wait like the rest of us!”

Spock ignored him and addressed the harried receptionist. “I am on urgent business. I merely wish to know the whereabouts of Admiral James Tiberius Kirk.”

“Just one minute!” the woman exclaimed into the terminal in front of her. She pressed another button and demanded, “Yes, what is it? I can’t hear you!” Finally, she risked a glance up at Spock. “What was that? A cup of tin?” she asked. Her eyes looked a little wild.

Spock would not contribute to her torment, as this certainly was, so he merely nodded and took his leave with a word of thanks.

Carefully maneuvering to avoid colliding with anyone, he scanned the room for some other source of information. “Computer, locate James Tiberius Kirk,” he attempted, but received no answer.

Finally, on the far wall, he located a directory. Beneath the sign was a screen that displayed a very, very long list of names in no apparent order, accompanied by incomprehensible locations. There was no means to automatically search through them that Spock could locate, so he scrolled down the list, registering each name as he skimmed past it. It was inefficient and tedious, but he read as quickly and precisely as any Vulcan, and time seemed to have little meaning in this place. Eventually, he found “Kirk, James Tiberius,” and a long string of apparently random numbers and letters.

As he turned to the map beside the directory, the directory reset, so it only displayed the beginning of the list. Thankfully, Spock had what he presumed was the room number memorized. Of course, the map appeared to be organized as logically as the list of names had been. If it was accurate, the building was a labyrinth of rooms and hallways arranged in configurations that may not even have been physically possible. And if the locations were indexed according to a system, Spock could not begin to understand it. But eventually he found the correct location - a room on the thirteenth floor, no doubt in reference to an old human superstition.

His destination in mind, Spock again maneuvered through the fray, to the lift on the other side of the lobby. Just as he arrived, the doors slid shut on a carriage full well past capacity. So, he waited and called for another. According to the indicator above the door, it started on the second floor. For a long time, it did not move, then it rocketed up to the thirteenth floor, barely paused long enough for the doors to open, and dropped down to the basement. It stayed there for a little while, before passing Spock again, on its way to the third, and then it returned to the second. Spock could hear it moving, perhaps even getting closer, but it gave no indication of arriving.

Finally, Spock gave up the wait as a waste of time and went for the stairs. As he walked away, he heard the lift arrive. In the time it took him to glance back over his shoulder, a whole crowd of people rushed in, and it was almost immediately filled past capacity again.

Spock continued on his way. The stairwell was empty, dank and musty, poorly illuminated by flickering lights. The stairs down to the basement descended into darkness, but Spock did not need to concern himself with what lurked down there. Instead, he made his way up the flights of stairs, each much longer than it ought to have been, especially on old, tired legs.

Eventually, he passed a door to the second floor, then the third, the fourth, the fifth... He had to stop and rest somewhere between the ninth and tenth. At long last, he arrived at the thirteenth. The paint on the door was peeled, and as he approached, it started to slide open and stuck.

Undeterred, he slid his fingers into the narrow crack between the door and the wall, braced himself and pulled at it with all the strength he had forgotten he had. The edge of the door cut into his fingers and his arms ached with the effort, but it only barely budged. He tried once more and was nearly knocked off his feet as the door suddenly slid open to allow a woman to pass from the other side.

He got his bearings before the door closed once more and stepped into a bustling hallway, just as hazardous as the main lobby had been. He maneuvered through the crowd of humanoids, all pushing and shouting to get by. The map he had memorized was clear in his mind and he knew the route.

Finally, after many twists and turns, and what felt like going in circles, he found his destination in an abandoned corridor. Somehow all the noise from just around the corner was muted. At the end of the hallway, exactly where it had been indicated on the map, was a door marked with a shiny new plate that read “Admiral James T. Kirk.”

Spock entered without knocking, unarmed and much too old for physical combat, but prepared to fight if it came to that. The door slid open easily. The only occupant of the large office was busy pouring over an endless pile of PADDs bearing thousands of lifetimes’ worth of paperwork. He looked tired and worn, more haggard than Spock had ever seen him in life - defeated.

“Jim,” Spock said, almost without thinking.

The admiral glanced up without really looking and froze. A tired dismissal died on his lips. His eyes widened in surprise. The PADD he was holding fell to the table with a thud.

“Spock, what are you doing here?” he whispered. His look of wonder turned to horror as he realized, “What are they going to do to you?”

“I am here of my own volition,” Spock answered sharply, though a trace of a gentle smile softened it. “I am here to rescue you.”

Kirk stumbled to his feet and moved toward Spock as though in a trance. His hands landed on Spock’s shoulders and he squeezed as though to assure himself that Spock was really there. “How did you get away?”

“I merely asked,” Spock replied. “I was sent somewhere rather different.”

Kirk grinned at the implication. “I knew you’d make it if either of us did.” But then his face fell. “But what are you doing  _ here _ ?”

“I am here to rescue you,” Spock repeated and offered Kirk his arm. “We should not delay.”

Kirk hesitated.

“You would do the same for me - and have,” Spock said.

Kirk pursed his lips, and looked like he wanted to argue, but finally he accepted Spock’s arm and said, “Alright. Let’s go.”

They stepped out through the door and walked down the hallway hand in hand. As they came upon a more major thoroughfare, they exchanged a glance - Spock raised one eyebrow, and Kirk’s lips quirked upward in a small smile - before plunging into the fray.

They ran as fast as two old men could, dodging past humanoids hurrying around them in all directions. The crowd threatened to pull them apart, but they never let go. Together, they forced open the door to the stairwell and nearly tumbled down the stairs. They burst out into the lobby, through the front doors, back to the waiting shuttle.

They both stopped dead in their tracks. The shuttle was surrounded by a dozen humanoids of no species either Kirk or Spock recognized, who were clearly none too happy with the apparent intrusion on their domain.


	3. In Between

Kirk and Spock stood in a white void, entirely empty aside from the two of them.

“Spock,” Kirk said at last, “Thank you for trying to rescue me, but you shouldn’t have risked everything-”

Spock fixed Kirk with his firmest look. “You should not have been sentenced to eternal torment,” he said, as though that settled the matter.

Kirk gave him half a smile. “Maybe not,” he acknowledged, “But you deserve it even less than I do.”

“I was aware of the risks when I left paradise,” Spock said a little sharply. He hesitated before saying more softly, “In order to leave paradise, it was necessary for me to convince the ‘computer’ that because of our bond in life I could not be happy there while you were in torment. I spoke the truth.”

“Spock,” Kirk made to protest. His hand brushed against Spock’s in a familiar gesture that reaffirmed the bond they once shared.

“If I have earned a place in paradise, then it is only logical that you deserve nothing less,” Spock insisted. “Everything of value that I accomplished, I was only able to accomplish because of you, and therefore your merit is at least equal to mine. Clearly, a mistake has been made, and I intend to correct it.” Despite his serious tone and formidable expression, Kirk could see a fond smile in Spock’s eyes.

Kirk could not help but smile back, even as he shook his head at Spock’s so-called logic. “I didn’t have any part in most of the things you did. How many more years did you live after I died?”

“It is thanks to you that I became the person who was able to accomplish any of those things.” Spock’s eyebrows rose to emphasize his words. “When I served under Captain Pike, I was a passable science officer, nothing more. It was only because of you that I was able to accept my own nature, and you brought feats out of me of which I would not have believed myself capable. Ergo, all of my accomplishments are to your credit.”

Kirk grinned. “I’m honored Spock, really, but I can’t take credit for any of that.”

Spock’s expression turned sharp again, and Kirk’s eyes widened as he recognized what Spock was thinking even before he spoke. “Of the two of us, you deserve a place in paradise.”

“No,” Kirk cut him off. “Spock, I won’t send you back to be tormented in my place. I can’t allow it!”

“Jim,” Spock insisted, “I doubt they will accept the both of us into paradise.”

“You’re the one who earned it, and I don’t care what your ‘logic’ says,” Kirk snapped. His expression softened until he was nearly pleading. “Spock, you know I couldn’t be happy in paradise knowing that you’re suffering on my behalf.”

Spock considered this, and finally nodded in assent. “However, I maintain that you do not deserve torment.”

“There’s got to be some alternative,” Kirk exclaimed. “There must be people who don’t deserve to be tormented for all eternity, but don’t deserve to go to paradise either. There must be something in between. Maybe we can convince them that I should go there. Maybe you could even visit me,” he suggested with a smile.

Spock considered his suggestion and made one of his own, “Perhaps they will accept a different variety of exchange. If they have determined that you deserve to be tormented and that I deserve to be in paradise - illogical as it is, we may be unable to convince them otherwise - we may be able to strike a bargain for us to remain together in a place that is an average of the two.”

“You would be sacrificing eternal paradise for eternal mediocrity,” Kirk reminded him.

“It is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make to ensure that you do not have to face eternal torment,” Spock insisted.

“Alright,” Kirk reluctantly accepted Spock’s suggestion. “Then if they won’t accept us both into paradise, we’ll argue for somewhere in between for the both of us.”

Kirk had barely finished speaking when the white void was replaced by a barren rocky landscape. Directly in front of them was what looked like a standard Starfleet research station, about the right size for two inhabitants.

“Your proposal has been accepted,” the voice of the computer declared. “Welcome to ‘somewhere in between.’”

They exchanged a glance. Kirk smiled and Spock quirked his eyebrow in response.

“After you,” Kirk said with an exaggerated wave, and together they stepped inside their new home.

* * *

Kirk was sitting in a moderately comfortable chair in one corner of the main room of their new home. “In between” consisted primarily of a bare room, unadorned, with a few austere pieces of furniture, a rudimentary kitchen, and off to the side, a door to a bedroom which was largely the same. Kirk had an antique book - one of few luxuries - open in front of him, but instead of reading, he was preoccupied watching Spock at his work table in the middle of the room, coils and gears spread out around him in organized chaos, tinkering with a small box with several wires coming out of the top.

Suddenly, Spock looked up. He noticed Kirk watching him, of course, but his eyes were drawn to the door. Kirk was about to ask when, out of the silence, he heard the low hum of an engine, and then the clank of metal settling against rock. Kirk was the first to his feet and he made his way to the door, unarmed, of course, but ready for whatever had come their way.

It slid open to reveal a shuttle sitting out in front beside their attempt at a garden. It was almost identical to the one Spock had taken in his rescue, resembling those that had once been on the  _ Enterprise _ , designated by the letters on its side as the “Eternity.” As Spock joined Kirk at the door, out of the shuttle walked an old Vulcan woman in long white robes.

Spock stepped forward past Kirk to greet her, his hand raised in the customary Vulcan greeting. “Live long and prosper.”

She mirrored his gesture and answered in kind, “Live long and prosper, my soulmate. I came here as soon as I was informed of your whereabouts.”

Spock nodded in appreciation. “My apologies for departing without informing you.” He waved Kirk forward and introduced him, “This is my bondmate and former captain.”

Kirk obliged and raised his hand in an attempt at the typical Vulcan greeting, though he couldn’t help but smile at the irony of it as he said, “Live long and prosper. You can call me Jim.”

“Live long and prosper. It is an honor to meet the one for whom my soulmate cares so deeply,” she said.

Spock waved them both back inside. He and his soulmate settled in the chairs that he and Kirk usually occupied and Kirk leaned against Spock’s work table, facing them both. First, on his soulmate’s polite insistence, Spock detailed how he rescued Kirk from eternal torment, how they were then caught, and found themselves somewhere “in between.”

“They're probably right, I haven't earned a stay in paradise - I made a lot of mistakes,” Kirk remarked, “But I don't think I deserve eternal torment either, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.”

The next time Spock's soulmate visited their place in between, she reported, “You are correct, you are not the only one in this position. I have spoken with many others in paradise and have found that Spock is not the first to exchange his place in paradise because he cannot be happy while another is being tormented.”

Kirk leaned toward her as she spoke as though to better hear what she was saying. “And they're being kept alone like we are?” he asked eagerly.

“Affirmative,” she replied.

“We should petition to be brought together - everyone who wants to at least,” Kirk exclaimed. “And if that works, maybe we can convince them to make a real place for anyone who doesn't deserve either paradise or torment.”

“If we can convince those responsible that those in paradise can only be happy if there is no unnecessary torment, they may be inclined to change,” Spock suggested.

Spock's soulmate seemed to consider the idea. At last she said, “I will convey your suggestion to as many in paradise as I can.”

* * *

“Welcome to something in between,” Kirk declared with a wide gesture at the bustling town that emerged out of a featureless expanse.

The latest arrivals watched nervously, appraising their new home - where they would stay for eternity, if it was successful. Kirk gave them all a warm smile and led the way down the open street that made up the center of town. All around them, people were hurrying to and fro, hard at work carrying building materials or talking eagerly among themselves. He greeted residents as they passed and pointed out landmarks, glowing with pride at everything their hard work had accomplished and all they were working to achieve.

As another citizen took charge of the new arrivals, Kirk was joined by an old Vulcan. Kirk greeted him with a grin and Spock answered with a subtle smile of his own. He offered Kirk his hand, his first two fingers extended. Kirk reciprocated the gesture and their fingers brushed together. Kirk's emotions danced in Spock's mind like bolts of desert lightning.

“Thank you,” Kirk said as they pulled apart, “For rescuing me. None of this would have been possible without you.”

Spock inclined his head toward Kirk. “I merely endeavored to find you. It was your idea to create a place in between and your plan to do so that succeeded. There are few who can claim to have improved the afterlife.”

“You flatter me,” Kirk answered with an open smile. “Maybe I just made my own paradise. As lovely as the real paradise sounds, it’s probably for the best I wasn’t sent there; an eternity of peaceful contemplation without any difficulties may have driven me out of my mind.”

Spock nodded in agreement. “You have found a uniquely suitable destiny.”

“I only wish Bones was here, but we probably shouldn’t disturb him. I bet he’s enjoying a well earned rest, relaxing in the shade under a tree with one of his mint juleps,” Kirk said with a smile. “What about you?” he asked lightly, but the question was serious.

“I do not regret leaving paradise,” Spock answered, “if that is what you intend to ask. If it were logical to have preferences, I would undoubtedly find this to be preferable.” A trace of a smile teased at his lips.

“Good,” Kirk said with a grin. “I admit, it wouldn’t be paradise without you.”


End file.
